


Quietening

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Rite of Tranquility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You cannot see her like this.” </p>
<p>Six words that instilled a dread in his stomach unlike anything he had felt since Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quietening

Cullen was _furious_.

The scouts had reported back victory: the Breach was closed, Corypheus defeated and the Inquisitor alive. And yet still they had not returned to Skyhold – letters were sent back stating simply that their return journey was ‘more difficult than anticipated’. The Commander ground his teeth as he read the latest missive. Even the bloody petit fours from Val Royeaux were travelling faster!

When the alarm rang out, he all but bolted down to the courtyard, desperate to see her. The returning party were slow to reach the gates – with one single exception. As he craned his neck to find her face, Cassandra stopped him, one hand grabbing his arm as she dragged him back across the courtyard.

“Not like this,” she murmured. “Trust me, not like this.”

“What are you –“

“You cannot see her like this.”

Six words that instilled a dread in his stomach unlike anything he had felt since Kirkwall. He pulled his arm back, stopping the Seeker’s march. “What happened?”

She took a deep breath, before indicating he should continue following her, heading up the steps to the bunks where she had been staying. “We knew there would be a price,” she said finally, a hitch in her throat that pained him. Cassandra cared for the Herald, a deep friendship borne of mutual respect and shaped by the path they had both walked. He could only begin to guess how much this hurt to say. “But we can fix this. I have a book – the answer lies within. All we need is a little time.”

“What was the price?”

“We can fix this, Cullen. We _will_ fix this. Dorian has already –“

“Just –“ He stopped again, trying to remain calm. “Just tell me what has been done.”

Cassandra stilled, an edge to her stance that does nothing to abate the worry. Turned away from him, he was suddenly glad he could not read her expression.

“The Anchor could seal rifts, even a small breach. But it required power, always. Power enough to pull the Fade back, and… and the Breach was almost beyond repair. She did not have an army behind her this time, she could only draw on what she had. It almost ripped her apart.” Her shoulders shook, and Cullen wondered what she had seen on the battlefield. “But the demons kept coming, and we protected her as best we could. It took too long for us to realise that her efforts were attracting them – that she was a beacon on both sides of the Veil. It had to stop. We – _I_ ,” she corrected herself, “had to stop her.”

“Cassandra?”

“She has been cut off from the Fade.” The silence that fell after her words were akin to a death knell. The woman turned to face him, the usual stoic mask slipping long enough for him to see the damage. “I had to save her this way, or risk undoing everything she had done to seal the Breach.”

Cullen held a hand up to stop her, the words still sinking in. Cut off from the Fade. He knew that term all too well. “Tranquil.” It fell from his lips, his heart constricted as he turned away, willing himself to hold on. “She’s… she’s not even a mage.”

“Cullen, I can reverse it.”

“Cassandra, I –“ He stopped again, teeth gritted as he clenched his fists to stop the trembling. “You cannot stand there and feed me fantastical tales and lies all day to temper the pain. I was a Templar, I know what the Rite does –“

“The Seekers have _always_ known how to reverse the damage,” she snapped. “I found this out only recently, but I now have that knowledge to put to use. Do not accuse me of trying to make this less painful for anyone! I understand the pain well enough to be honest about our chances here.”

“And what are the chances? What are the chances that this works, and that she’s suddenly fine again?”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t – Cullen, I don’t know. I have never done this before, and I have not yet committed the process to memory.” Letting her shoulders slump, she rested her hands on her hips. “I have nothing, save for a book and the belief that the Maker cannot be so cruel as to allow such a travesty to pass. But every Seeker… every single Seeker went through this. And she is so much stronger than any Seeker I have known. I have to believe that she will come back.”

“The Seekers were made Tranquil?”

“Yes. I did not have the words for the experience until the book was given to me, but… that is what makes us strong, what gives us such faith.”

He stared at her, unbelieving for a long moment. “You?”

“Even I.”

“Maker’s breath…”

“It will not happen again. That much, I assure you.” Turning back to the table, she picked up the book with care.

“Can I –“ He hesitated, swallowing hard. “I want to see her.”

“I would not advise it.”

“I have to understand.” He drew in a sharp breath. “I want to – I want to help, but I cannot if I do not understand the problem.”

“It will be… hard. Harder than anything we have been through here.”

“Take me to her.”

  
  


-

  
  


Cassandra headed straight for the desk, opening the book and beckoning Dorian to her side. But Cullen only had eyes for the woman sat between Varric and a tearful Sera. The elf turned at the sound of their entrance, shaking her head slightly before retreating to the balcony where Blackwall and Iron Bull spoke in low tones.

He approached the cot with a wariness usually reserved for the enemy – a lightness of step that belied the weight bearing down on him. Varric moved aside silently, leaving only the Inquisitor in his sight. There was no telltale brand on her forehead, but the vacant glassy eyes and the slack jaw were all-too familiar. His heart stopped.

“Maker…”

At the sound of his voice she turned her head slightly, looking up at him. “Commander Cullen.”

Behind him, someone stifled a sob. He wanted to rail at the world – the injustice of it, to have her reduced in any way, to hear his name said in such a passionless voice after all they had worked towards… it was cruel in a way that burned at his core.

“Where is she?” he murmured, kneeling down to look into her eyes. Reaching out, he brushed her hair lightly. “I have known many Tranquil, but this… Andraste guide me, this is anything _but_.”

“Is there some way I can assist you?” she asked.

His hand tightened around her hair at the question. It horrified him, this blank slate with a familiar face, and for a moment he was ashamed of the thought that perhaps being turned into this was just another form of demonic work.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Maker, forgive me.”

“It’s alright.” Varric’s voice was rough, but Cullen is glad of it. “We’ll get her back. Just gotta find the right way to follow her down the rabbit-hole. Right, Seeker?” Beyond him, Cassandra and Dorian straightened up. The latter looked worn, strung out but with a fire in his eyes.

“The method is easy enough,” Cassandra said. “Though I admit, this would be easier if Solas had stayed -”

“Are you suggesting I’m not up to the task? I’m insulted,” quipped Dorian, though with less flair than usual.

“Dorian -”

“I know.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, light but comforting. “I only hope I _am_ up to the task. Let us begin.”

“Commander?”

Cullen moved, just far enough to press a kiss to her forehead. “We will find you again, my love.”

  
  


-

  
  


The wait was agony for all of them. But eventually it ended, as all things must.

The Seeker fell to her knees, the room falling sharply into focus and the incumbent form of their leader remaining still. “It… it should have worked. It should have _worked_.”

“Inquisitor,” murmured Dorian, bowing his head. “Forgive us our sins.”

“No, it should have –“

“What happened?” Cullen stood, eyes roaming between the three of them. Varric was somewhat quicker on the uptake, placing a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

“It’s time to let it go, Cassandra.”

“How can you say that?” she whispered. “After everything we did… after everything you watched her do, how can you say that?”

“Because she wouldn’t want to be remembered as a ghost.” Pulling her into a careful embrace, he rested his head on top of hers, closing his eyes as her arms tightened around him and her body shook with each sob muffled into his shoulder. “Let her go, Seeker. She’s earned that much.”

Cullen turned to Dorian and Vivienne, desperate for answers, but the latter swept out of the room without a word. The Tevinter mage leaned heavily on his staff, unable to meet the Commander’s eyes.

“I will not stop looking for an answer,” he said finally, “but short of the Maker Himself coming down and touching her mind, I do not know what will come of it.”

“I… what can I do? How can I -” Cullen turned to watch her, voice small and lost, and Dorian did not answer.

  
  


-

  
  


She recited the verses from Trials perfectly.

“For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

Nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. Cullen found that particular sentiment a little hard to swallow. But he supposed there was a hope there, slim but real.

Dorian had kept his word, writing to what few friends he had in the Imperium. Cassandra had accepted her fate, becoming the new Divine with one caveat – that the Inquisition continue, holding her accountable for her mistakes. Cullen himself had been thrust into the limelight, taking charge in the absence of the woman he had loved. The new Inquisitor.

He sat next to her now, holding one of her hands between his. The words of the Chant no longer needed to be spoken aloud, but they remained with him. The aching hollowness in his chest would not be filled by them, not in an age… but she would not want him to give up faith. She would not have wanted him to lose his way after finding it once more.

He would have to remember that, in the days to come.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, he took a deep breath.

“I will never forget you,” he promised, “and I will try not to falter. I only hope…” His voice threatened to give way, and he waited for the courage to return before continuing. “I only hope that we meet again, you and I, in the Light of the Maker.”

“Are you leaving, Commander?” she asked.

He did not turn back as he left the room.

  
  


-

  
  


There was talk of ending it, but the few who could stomach the act refused. Cole was the one to suggest the idea, but hesitated at the idea of being the one to implement it. The Iron Bull glared before the question could be asked. Blackwall would not suffer more blood on his hands. Varric left long before the suggestion could be put to him.

 

In the dark, the blade was quiet, sinking through fabric and flesh with no regard for either. Quick and merciful, the Herald did not even wake. The assassin knelt down, resting a light hand on her hip and kissing her temple before stepping quickly towards the window. In the end, courage would not linger for long. They would find no trace of Sera come dawn, save for the bloodied blade – a gift from their once-leader, a gift now returned.


End file.
